Provenance
by Krizazy
Summary: My dreams are just lies. Those lies go on, and on, and on. But not everything has to be a lie. Not every dream is so bad, and neither am I. But everyone else is.
1. Dream: Initium

OH MY GOSH. Hey thur, guys. Some of you guys are probably thinking, "Wow, it's about time that you've finally started this fanfiction again!". Yeah... I've just been trying to hold off for as long as I can, so this story isn't as rushed as it was. Hopefully you guys will enjoy this more than the other versions of this that I've started but never finished :) So, uh...have a good read, will ya'?

* * *

He thinks I'm crazy, I can see it.

_Or maybe my mind's tricking me again, that's no surprise._

He's asked a thousand questions, now he finally asks the last.

"What do you think?"

_What do I think?_

"About dreaming, I mean."_  
_

I stare at him for a moment before nodding my head, I start to talk again. I tell him what I think.

_Well..Everything starts with a dream_.

_You close your eyes, and images run through your head. It's all so... disorganized_. _But it still manages to make sense._

He doesn't understand, so he asks what I mean. I tell him,

_All that matters when you're dreaming... is that you're falling. You're falling so fast, that nothing makes sense. You're so afraid of..of..I don't know._

He nods his head, writing down everything I'm saying; he's taking notes.

I hesitate for a moment. How do I explain _**this**_?

His eyes meet mine again, and he tells me to "take my time."

I look down at my hands, _There is no time_, I say.

_All you know is that you're falling. There's no such thing as **"time"** when you're falling._

Another nod.

_You...you can't feel the wind,__ or the adrenaline rushing past or through you. But you** know** you're falling: you **know** it. As you fall, you begin to think. As you think, the images come and go._

More nodding, more writing.

_The only thing I can compare any of this to..is..well, raindrops. A storm. The drops of rain on the windowsill slowly fall away until the next drop comes to take it's place._

_Clouds are what keep you from seeing what is really happening; the reality._

Everything around me begins to disappear_. _I don't notice it though. Not yet._  
_

_Thunder is...well, thunder is the sudden realization that you are, in fact, dreaming._

He looks up at me again, and I look at him. Then his face... it starts to _**change**_. My breathe catches in my throat.

"And? What then?" He asks.

_Then your eyes open and..._

I see his smirk.

My eyes widen, and I'm suddenly falling.

_And it's morning.

* * *

_

_Sooo, _yeah. All of that was meant to be slightly confusing. Because I am like that, and I like to confuse people. HEEHEE. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed that "opening"..I thought it was fun to work on.

I'll see you all in the next chapter, hopefully! :D


	2. 1: Addonexus

**A false witness shall not be unpunished, and [he that] speaketh lies shall perish.**

**Proverbs 19:9**

* * *

I'll admit: I can be quite dishonest.

I've lied many times, and I've continued to do it even after I've told myself that "I would never do it again". Oh, I certainly continued. Without a care in the world of what the receiving end of the lies was thinking.

I've lied to my son many times, as well. Now he's off somewhere that I-don't-know-anything-about.

But my son is not the center of this story. No, not at all.

The center of the story is about me and a man that I once thought I "loved" for "all eternity". A man that "I could never keep my mind off of".

I've kept my mind off of him plenty of times.

Excuse me if I sound overly bitter, or venomous, but after finally being able to get this out somewhere.. it all kind of escapes before I have time to re-think it.

Now, I'm sure you're quite aware of who this "man" is, yes?

I don't know why I ever loved him, I really don't. He was handsome, I suppose that's why.. and he was intelligent, even though others thought differently at times.

But being good-looking and having a little bit of intelligence really doesn't get you anywhere.

You probably think differently, but oh well, these are my thoughts. You don't have to agree with them. I'm not telling this story to have a debate over it. Certainly not. I'm trying to do anything but that. I'm trying to tell you a damn story, and I'll tell it the way I want to. Whether you agree with what I'm saying or not.

I'm just trying to say that having good-looks and a bit of intelligence doesn't get you anywhere.

You need strength.

Strength gets you places.

When you're faced with a crowd of people who do nothing but give you strange looks and laugh at you, what gets you through it? Strength! Of course that's what! I wouldn't be giving a damn example if that's what I wasn't talking about!

I'm sorry. I get caught up in other thoughts, I apologize. I really do.

I'll tell you what: why don't I just tell you my story, and then we can all just rest? Yes? Isn't that what you'd like to do? Sleep? Forget about everything for a couple of hours?

No? You want to hear my story? Oh, fine, I guess.

Now, you've had time to assume what man I am talking about, yes? So I suppose there is no need to tell you of something you already know of..

Ezio, was his name. Ezio Auditore.

You've seen him before? Well, yes, of course you have. This damn story is practically centered around him! Well, maybe it isn't. Maybe it is. I don't know. Let me tell you my story before you jump to so many damn conclusions!

Ezio, was his name. Ezio Auditore.

Yes, I was in love with him. I WAS. Do you hear? I WAS. I am no longer. I despise the man now. I DESPISE him.

Anyway, I was in love with him at one point in my life... maybe until I had reached the age of 25 or 26. After that, I no longer held any sort of feelings towards him at all.

You want to know why, is that why you're asking? And if you're not, why aren't you? Spend your time doing things worth your time, for once!

..Anyway, I didn't hold any feelings for him after the time of the birth of.. my son. Ezio was off doing things I no longer had the patience for, and he was off running around with those other.. whores.

Excuse me, some things I say may turn out bitter... I don't mean it that way. Maybe I do. Either way, I mean it. So listen.

He was always off doing things like that.

He could give two shits about me and... my son. All he wanted to do was screw women! It was just as his mother said: his only outlet was vaginas! How ever true that was. How I miss that woman..

She's not the point of the story, Ezio is. No, not just Ezio, me as well. Others as well.

Just listen!

Maybe I was wrong about him, maybe I still am. Maybe all I'm saying are lies. Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie. See? All I was saying are "lies". I am clever.

Lies aren't the point of my story, either.

The point of the story now is about the day Amedea died.

Oh, that poor girl. Amedea, the poor girl. Her body lie in vomit, and her eyes didn't hold that lively glow she had anymore. Her eyes were glazed over. She was dead. Oh, the poor girl.

Amedea was so nice. And that is not a lie, just in case you had any doubts.

Amedea was a nice, young girl. She could've been off doing things that were better than working in a brothel. For me. Selling her body. She could've been doing such better things. I even over-heard once in a conversation she was having with another girl that she wanted to be a nun.

Such a nice girl. Wanting to be a nun? That's always a good thing, yes? Wanting to pray and do... things nuns do.

Oh, so what if I don't know what nuns do? I'm obviously not a nun! I don't have any idea what they do throughout the day! No idea at all! You expect an ex-courtesan to know things that nuns do? No! That would be just silly.

Amedea wasn't silly, though.

Oh, she was quite serious about wanting to be a nun. So serious, that even when you would joke around with her about them, she would give that angry glare and then proceed to lecture you on why it is wrong to make jokes about nuns.

I saw nothing wrong with it, but she did. Oh, did she find something wrong with it.

Don't let my view on Amedea ruin your views on her! Amedea was a fun girl! ...Except for when you teased her about wanting to be a nun. She wasn't a fun girl then.

But you know that, yes? I don't need to tell you that.

What is that? Why am I not talking about Ezio anymore?

Because he's not the center of the story right now; Amedea is. I'll get to the womanizer later. He can wait.

Anyway, Amedea. Amedea. Amedea.

I once asked her why she was named "Amedea". She just looked back at me and shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know why. I guess my parents just enjoyed that name, so they named me Amedea." Amedea was quite the courtesan, as well. She was good at what she did. I knew this because every time she would stumble back into my brothel, she would be drunk off of her ass, and laughing with jewelry in her hands from a noble-man's wife. That's how I knew she was good at what she did. As long as she came back with an item of some value in hand, she was good at what she did, and always allowed back into my brothel. Always.

Until she died.

How she died? I don't quite remember.

That's a lie, in case you had any doubts about it. I do remember quite clearly.

It was a nice day outside, and the birds were chirping, and the leaves were blowing, and, ah.. forget it; it was a nice day. Very warm outside, if I recall correctly.

Amedea had just recently went out to her next "target", and I was eagerly awaiting her return. So I waited, and I waited, and I waited, and I waited. No Amedea yet. So I kept waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Still no Amedea.

Where is that girl? I wondered.

I had ordered five of my girls to go split up and look for poor Amedea. They came back with nothing.

Where could she be? She's never this late! I said. My girls just shrugged their shoulders; they liked shrugging their shoulders, it seemed. They always shrugged their shoulders when they didn't know the answer to something.

How much money did you get? They shrugged.

How many pieces of jewelry did you acquire? They shrugged.

How long did it take for him to die? They shrugged.

Are you pregnant? They looked around nervously and shrugged.

Forever shrugging, it seemed. Ah, but shrugging is not the point of this story. But I am not one to complain about shrugging, because I do it a lot too. Shrugging was a very bad habit of mine.

No, I will tell you about my bad habits later; the focus of the story right now is Amedea. Not shrugging, or any other habit of mine.

Amedea still hadn't come back yet, and I was worried. Very worried. She had never come back so late! Amedea was always on top of things; whether it be men or whatever other thing she was doing! She always came back before nightfall! Always! I swear it!

Soon, the worry went away and I just became unbelievably frustrated. I wanted to rip someone's head off! Amedea was never like this, and it bothered me!

My frustration boiled down into complete and utter anger, and I began pacing around the room. The other girls just watched and sighed. They knew not to bother me when I was pacing around. That was an automatic red-flag for them; a line not to cross by any means.

You do not mess with Zita when she is angry.

You never mess with Zita: The big and fearless leader of a bunch of good-for-nothing whores!

Oh, excuse me. That came out wrong, I swear. That's not a lie. It came out completely and utterly wrong.

I was "Zita: Great leader of women who wanted the best in life"! "Zita: The oh-so wonderful leader of women who aspired to be just like her"! Ugh, don't get me started on the millions upon millions of other titles I was given.

The best title, though, if you'll allow me to go off-topic for just a moment, would have had to be "Zita: Betrayer of Lovers"! Oh! I just loved it.

Yes. Because I "betrayed" a man who couldn't care at all about a woman who actually loved him. A man who said he would be back soon and didn't return for 7 seven years. A man who was always out chasing other women! Oh, yes! I definitely "betrayed" him good, didn't I? I was "Zita: The Betrayer of Lovers"! Of course I did! That was my profession!

Sorry. The bitterness is talking there. Not me.

Anyway, sorry. Amedea. Yes, good old Amedea.

Amedea finally came back that night.

She was drunk, of course. So what can I say? Maybe she didn't know any better. Who am I to judge? God can judge you, not me. I am not the judge and jury of all things holy. I am just "Zita: The big and fearless leader of a bunch of good-for-nothing whores"!

Amedea came stumbling in again, laughing and giggling like there was no tomorrow. She fell onto the floor, and then had the nerve to look up at me with those big eyes and laugh.

"Oh, oh... ho ho ho! Leader... I am... Oh... haha ha! Leader! I-I am..._back_! Pfft, ha! I'm back... back! Haha! Can you... oh... can you believe it? Ah, hahaha! I... oh! I can't... I can't! I just can't!"

I, however, was not laughing. I was sitting in my chair with steam pouring out of my ears. I felt like my blood was on fire. Oh, I was definitely ready to rip someone's head off. Preferably hers.

"Leader, leader! Haha! Oh, I didn't... oh, ugh," Amedea covered her mouth, "I... oh, I didn't... didn't come... oh, ahahaha! Not... not like that! No... no! Hahahaha! I didn't come back... back with any... oh, anything."

She was quite a sloppy drunk. Or maybe my way of telling you what she sounded like is off. Either way, she was drunk. Very drunk.

"But... but! T-the man! Oh! He was... he was, ahahaha! He was unbelievably handsome! So unbe-unbelievably handssss...," she started gagging but quickly recovered, "...handsome."

Amedea picked herself up off of the floor, carried herself over to me, and fell onto my lap. I flinched a bit, but I still remained silent.

"And you-you wouldn't.. _believe_ wha-what I... oh, what I saw! Nuns! They were... ahaha.. _ahaha_... they were, oh, they were DRINKING! Can you _believe_ that? Nuns! _Drinking_! So... so sss-ahaha-s-silly."

I looked down to her, "So, you didn't come back with anything?" I asked with a mock-calm. She just giggled again and started shaking her head.

"N-no... heehee, _nothing_! See?," she stuck her hands out, "Nothing! _Haha_! Oh... ugh..."

"...Perhaps you should head off to sleep. Get some rest."

"Rest? R-rest? Oh, oh I could never! Not n...now! Haha! I can't rest like this! Heehee!"

"I'm saying you can."

"Oh...but...but..."

"Now."

"Haha, oh, Leader! You're so...s-so silly! You know this? D-you-do you know that? Silly! _Haha_!"

"Go."

"You'll hav-have to carry me there! Ho, ho... ha. Carry me!"

I shut my eyes tightly. Why did the good girls always have to do something wrong? Why were they not always perfect? Weren't good people supposed to be perfect? Like good old Amedea was? I couldn't understand why she did this. I couldn't understand why she didn't come back with anything this time. Even though I clearly remember that she could bring something valuable back even when she was drunk! Why didn't she this time?

I started to stand up, and Amedea started to slide off of me, but I quickly caught her hands and stood her up beside me. "Such...oh, s-such a gentlewoman you are! Ha! Even the-the man wasn't as... ugh, as nice as this! Hee!". Then I quickly but carefully slid my arms under her, and picked her up.

Amedea laughed all the way up the steps; I heard her complain about how I was tickling her, and how I was pulling the fabric of her dress down her shoulders. Oh, but she kept laughing.

We finally reached her room, so I had eased her door open with my foot and carried her inside. I layed her down on her bed, and pulled the covers up to her chin; just like a child.

She just had to request a glass of water. Just had to.

"Leader...I, ugh, oh, ha! I... Leader! I want a... gl-glass of..water! Water, please! Haha! Oh, my throat feels so dry..."

So I got her a glass of water, wished her goodnight, and left the room.

The next morning, you ask? The next morning, what happened?

One of the girls went into her room after seeing that she had not been up earlier than the rest of them, like she normally was, and saw her laying in her bed. Dead. Vomit all around her. Her eyes wide open, glazed over. Her mouth was open, and her lips were pale. The bed was an absolute mess.

"...Oh, _mio dio_! How did this happen?" One of them asked me. I shook my head, and shrugged.

"I don't know", I replied. I didn't know how poor Amedea died. Poor, poor Amedea.

Of course, that's a lie.

I killed her.

* * *

So.. finally! The first, freaking chapter! OH MY GOODNESS. This took me... what? One month? Maybe? Or maybe a couple of weeks. I'm probably over-exaggerating on that one. Either way, it took a long time for me to do this.

*sigh*, Anyway, yes. The way Zita says certain things is on purpose. She has some.. mental issues; which I will get into later on.

If you have a critique of some sort, please go right on ahead and tell me. But please do it constructively. Or, if you have a suggestion, feel free to tell me that as well. I'm always game for some suggestions.

Hope you enjoyed this :)


End file.
